Wilde History
by AWakeingDream
Summary: Abstergo Industries is being destroyed and the Templars are being cheated. After months of toying with the late Desmond Miles's memories, they found what they were looking for, only for everything they worked for to be snatched away again. Now they learn the truth of what happened during Edward Kenway's life. It wasn't Edward's memories they should have been reliving.
1. Prolog

The sound of high heels echoes through the air in the large foyer of Abstergo Industries. People who are close enough to the passing young woman can faintly hear the music pouring out of the earbuds that she wears. As she passes the information desk ,she waves pleasantly to the receptionist, a small, secret, smile on her lips. As she passes the coffee kiosk, her hands now in her pockets, her gaze slides over to Sean, the man with the glasses who serves the coffee, and Rebecca, the company's messenger. In the midst of their conversation, their gazes slide over to meet hers. The young woman's secret smile transforms into a smirk as her gaze slides away from them and she looks forward again, her sight locking on the elevator just ahead.

"Good morning," Olivier's number one minion greets as the young woman steps onto the elevator. The young woman pretends she can't hear through her music, keeping her gaze straight ahead as the elevator ascends through the building. The doors open and she is the first to step out of the elevator. Her steps, made loud from the heels of her boots, are sure and quick as she passes her station, her animus, and makes her way to the third level security clearance room.

She presses the button on the cord of her earbuds and the singer stops mid-lyric, a new voice coming through the speakers. "Ready?" John, one of Abstergo's many IT workers, asks.

"Ready," she answers, a secret fire in her eyes and that secret smile playing at her lips.

The red light on the door turns green as she glances over her shoulder. With nobody watching, she's safe to push the door inward, swinging it open, and steps inside. She sits down at one of the many computers in the room, positioning herself so that she can see the door but no one can look through its glass and see her. She turns on the computer and pushes a flashdrive into the USB port. "Make it quick," she instructs quietly.

"Yeah, yeah," he answers lazily. But she can hear his fingers flying across the keyboard through the radio, moving so fast that she wonders how he can possibly keep track of what he's doing.

"Everything else is done?" she asks as he works.

"Of course," he answers with a smile that she can hear even though she can't see it. "You're in."

Once the computer is hacked, music comes back on through the earbuds as the young woman gets to work. She pulls all the information about Desmond Miles' ancestors that Abstergo Industries had ever managed to collect, all the way back to Altair. She doesn't bother with anything before then, because even though Altair may not have been the first of the blood to become an Assassin, it still all started with him. He was the first to find any piece of Eden, they first to make a mark on the Assassins and their Creed. It all began with him, this war that's still being fought even almost a thousand years later.

When all of the information is transferred from the company database to the flashdrive, she pulls it out of the port and tucks it into an inside pocket of her jacket as she rises to her feet. She leaves the room the same way she came in: unnoticed. This time, as she passes her station, she pauses. She pulls an envelope from another inside pocket of her jacket and drops it on the desk in front of her animus. On the front of the envelope is Olivier's name, neatly written in script that could have come right out of a time long passed.

"Leaving already?" the receptionist in the lobby asks as the young woman passes her again. This time, she's completely ignored, as the woman pretends she can hear nothing through the music pouring into her ears. She slides her gaze over to the coffee kiosk again. Rebecca and Sean are gone. As is John, from wherever the IT boys hide away.

Her steps echo through the lobby as she approaches the door. As the glass doors slide open for her, she stops and turns around, facing all that she has seen for the past months. Facing all that has been done to her, recently and in the distant past.

She takes it all in, one last time, knowing that this will be the end. The war will not end, perhaps it will never end, but her life on the run, hiding from everything, fearing everyone, will. They made her fall once, took what made her stand from her twice. And now she'll make sure they lose what makes them stand, again and again, and she will make sure they fall, again and again, as many times as it takes until they cannot rise again, as she did.

Now the tables are turned. Abstergo Industries is no longer at the advantage, and they don't even know it yet.

Oh, but they will. They will know, very soon, and they will fight back. And, with any luck, they will fight the old way, instead of their ridiculous newly found way that enables them to hide away behind their computer screens.

She turns back around, pulling her hand out of the front pocket of her jeans. Hidden like a coin for a magic trick, snug in between her index finger and middle finger, is a device no bigger than a coin. But far more useful.

The young woman slaps her hand against the wall as she goes through the door, letting the device stick to the wall.

By the time she's through the door, Abstergo Industries has been robbed of every bit of information about Desmon Miles' ancestors that they ever recovered from any man or woman's memories. By the time she steps off the curb, their entire database, systems, security, and everything else that they've managed to build up, have all been fried and destroyed beyond recover. By the time she reaches the sidewalk on the other side of the street, the prisoner in their basement has disappeared. By the time she reaches the corner at the end of the street, Abstergo Industries, in all its branches, has come to ruin, and one simple message is left behind, appearing in bold red letters across every screen in the building: The Cross is Next.

I smile as I round the corner and disappear, a ghost who was never known.

They'll know me now.


	2. the Letter

_Dear Olivier,_

 _By the time you read this letter, you will have realized what's been done. Your two best animus pilots have vanished, one even from your own lockup. You may not think it important enough to take note of, but your coffee by and messenger are also gone. That is more important than you realize, but you'll find that out soon enough. Also, I wouldn't bother hurrying to repair your databases, Olivier. For one, your company's technology expert is also gone. Second, on the absurd chance you actually were able to manage to repair and recover what information was lost, it would do you no good. The memories of Desmond Miles' ancestors will not be there. I could just allow you to believe that this is a fault of the malfunction of your systems, but my people do not lie, and I do so want you to know the truth._

 _You see, Olivier, I am the one who set the device that destroyed your company. I am the one who stole all your files on the ancestors of Desmond Miles, as well as all other Assassins whose memories and lives you have recorded. Are you surprised? You must be. You never suspected I had a hand in anything, did you? It's to be expected, really. I have played the part of my enemy's friend before. It is an easy role for me to portray. So easily, in fact, that I never need to speak a single lie as I'm acting._

 _But now, Olivier, I will tell you the entire truth. I will tell you who I truly am. You may not believe me, but when you inform your superiors what has happened, they will know my name. Because, you see, I have acted as a Templar before. Oh, did you think I didn't know the name of the puppeteers behind the curtain? I know the Templars very will, just as they know my name very well._

 _My true name is not May Brown. I am not twenty-six years old. I was not even born in October, or on the seventeenth of any month at all. My eyes aren't brown. I detest putting my hair in the Spanish bun that you have been led to believe is my preferred style. I am in no way related to Desmond Miles or any of his kin, nor need I be. And, as I've mentioned before, I was never a blind employee, oblivious to the workings of Abstergo Industries, or to the fact that the company was created by the Templars in yet another pathetic attempt to one-up the Assassins in this never-ending war._

 _My name is Maylea Wilde. I was once known as the Wilde Girl of the Caribbean. Perhaps you have heard of me? What you haven't heard, however, is that I met Edward Kenway, the pirate you have taken such an interest in lately. In fact, I sailed with him quite often – and annoyed him even more often, I suspect – in another life. Bartholomew Roberts isn't the only soul from another time, you know. Or, perhaps, you didn't even know that much._

 _You see, Olivier, I discovered a long time ago that there is no king who does not wear the cross on his back. Now you will discover that there is no cross that is not shadowed by an eagle. Because now that I have told you the truth about who I am, I will tell you the whole truth._

 _Now I will tell you the truth about Edward Kenway, James Kidd, Mary Read, Anne Bonney, and so many others. Now, Olivier, I will tell you the truth of how I died._


	3. March 1707

**1707 March**

 _ **London, England**_

"Stop!" "Get down!"

At ten years old I was always on the run from the soldiers around my home town of London, England. They hated me, because I was always going where children ought not to have been going. Climbing was my favorite activity, and there just weren't any climbable trees in London. So, in place of the trees, I climbed buildings.

So the day I caught my first glimpse of how truly complex the world was, it wasn't really a surprise that it all began with me running across the rooftops of the houses of London, my brown hair with flowers growing in it streaming behind me, my vine green eyes shining with excitement, my bronze skin glistening with sweat from running, and British soldiers yelling angrily as they chased behind me.

A church was only a few rooftops ahead of me. If I could make it there, I knew, I could climb the bell tower and escape the soldiers. That was my goal.

Jump. Only two rooftops in between me and that church ahead. The soldiers were getting closer. They were grown ups, they had a lot longer legs than I did. But I was a kid, and I had more energy.

Another jump, and only one more rooftop stood between me and safety. The soldiers were too close, I could hear their footsteps right behind me. But I couldn't get caught. The soldiers would drag me home and I'd be doing extra chores for a month.

I jumped, but this time one of the soldiers grabbed the back of my shirt as I did. They lost their grip as I flung myself forward and off the rooftop, but it was enough to throw me off balance. I barely make it to the next rooftop, sliding on my stomach and scrambling to keep from falling off the edge. I managed to get to my feet just as the soldiers landed right behind me. They landed much more cleanly than I did, and one of them grabbed me. I yelled out angrily as I struggled to break free of them. The church roof was just ahead of me. Then I'd be up the bell tower and away.

I broke away with just enough time to launch myself clumsily off the house's rooftop and towards the roof of the church. But I realized almost immediately that I wasn't going to make it. And on the roofs of two-story buildings, I knew that the fall was going to hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to watch the ground approach.

It never did though.

A hand grabbed my wrist, catching me. My knees hit the church wall hard enough to hurt, but that was a small price to pay for not falling two stories down to the ground, I knew. I opened my eyes and looked up to see a boy with dark hair, grey eyes, and a red bandana covering his forehead. He looked down at me as he gripped my wrist with one of his hands, keeping me from falling.

He pulled me up onto the rooftop, and then started pushing me towards the tower the moment I was on my feet. "Climb up! Hurry! I'll get rid of them."

It all happened in a rush. I didn't have time to think. I just started climbing as quick as I could. Thankfully, I'd always been a fast climber. I was halfway up the bell tower before I glanced down and saw that the boy was watching me climb. The soldiers were right behind him, though, one of them reaching out to grab him.

"Watch out!" I screamed. The boy spun around and was a blur of motion as he knocked the soldier closest to him down, and then lunged towards the other solder's rifle.

"Climb!" he yelled at me when he glanced up and saw that I hadn't moved. So I started climbing. I scrambled as quickly as I could upwards until I was standing beside the large iron bell at the top. I looked down to see the boy backed up against the base of the tower, surrounded by half a dozen soldiers now.

I dropped to my knees, my hands gripping the edge of the stone ground. "Climb!" I screamed down to him now. "They're really bad climbers!" Soldiers may have been fast, but they were horrible and slow climbers. It was how I'd always managed to get away from them, because I could climb and they couldn't.

"Don't come down until we're gone!" the boy yelled back up at me. I stared down at him, confused. Then I watched in amazement as he burst forward and crashed into one of the soldiers. They both went down, but the boy rolled back to his feet easily, ducking under another soldier's arm as he reached out to catch the boy. I could hear him laughing, even from where I was, as he tripped another soldier and sent him to the ground.

I couldn't help but laugh too, as the boy launched himself off the church's roof and landed gracefully on the roof of the house right next to the church. He looked up at me, grinning, and bowed. Then, just as the soldiers made the jump to pursue him, he turned and ran away. The soldiers all forgot about me as they chased him.

I quickly started climbing down, wanting to follow. Since the soldiers weren't focusing on me, I could follow them in secret, hiding, until the boy lost them and I could go to him safely. By the time I got about halfway down the tower, they were so far away though. I paused, blinked my eyes, and activated my second sight.

My pupils became ringed with silver as the world took on a blue tint and everything slowed down. All the soldiers I could see turned red, places where I could disappear from sight paled – and there, in the distance, running in slow motion, the boy shone the brightest and most beautiful silver that I'd ever seen.

I watched them as I struggled to move. Moving while my second sight was activated was like moving through thick mud – difficult and slow. I watched as I struggled to continue to climb down, until I lost my footing on the tower and dropped down the last half of it, down to the roof. My second sight instantly vanished as I landed wrong, hurting my ankle. By the time I got home that evening, my ankle was swollen and ugly looking.

It took a few days for my parents to finally have to leave the house at the same time, leaving me home alone. As soon as they were both gone, I snuck out of bed and made my way painfully and slowly out to the courtyard, where I sat in a rocking chair by the flowers.

I hadn't stopped thinking about the boy that saved me from falling and led the soldiers away. I didn't know who he was, but I hoped that I would be able to see him again some day.

"That looks bad," a familiar voice said, pulling me out of my own mind. I looked up to see the boy, almost as if summoned by my hopes, standing just on the other side of the gate set into the low wall surrounding my family's property.

For a minute, I was too surprised to speak. Finally, I realized that he was looking at my ankle, poking out from under the hem of my skirt. "It's not so bad," I finally said, glancing down at it. "It should heal up soon. I only sprained it." At least, that was what Mother told me. I didn't know enough to know any different.

"How?" he asked, lifting his gaze to my face.

I looked down again, feeling myself flush with embarrassment. "I fell off the bell tower, that day you saved me."

The boy immediately laughed, "I went to all that trouble so you wouldn't get hurt, just for you to hurt yourself the moment my back was turned?" I was almost positive that my face was getting even redder, and I was too embarrassed to even look at him by that point. "Are your parents home?"

I shook my head, happy for the change of subject, as I looked at him again. I hoped my face wasn't nearly a s red as I thought it was. "Mother's running her errands, and Father's at work. If either of them were home, I wouldn't be out here."

"Why not?" he asked as he reached over the gate and unlocked it, letting himself in as if it were already a normal thing for him, to be coming into my family's courtyard.

"They won't let me leave my bed until my ankle heals," I said as I watched him.

"That might take a while," the boy said as he walked over and sat on the ground in front of my chair. He lifted the bottom of my skirt a little bit so that he could get a better look at my ankle. The swelling hadn't gone down and by then it was purple and looked oddly shaped, ugly. "It's broken."

My eyes widened, "How long will it take to heal?" I was almost afraid of the answer.

"Well it won't heal right if the bone's not reset."

I sat back and narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him. "That's not as painful as I think it is, is it?"

"It'll be more painful if it's not fixed," he looked up at me. "Then it could hurt the rest of your life."

I just gaped at him, speechless.

"Don't move," he said as he grabbed my ankle with one hand and my foot with the other.

"What are you doing?!" I demanded quickly.

Instead of answering though, he pulled on my foot, hard and quick. I heard a really loud crack and suddenly my ankle hurt at least twice as much as before. I bit back a scream and whimpered, yanking my other leg up against my chest, curling up as much as I could. Then, after a minute, it didn't hurt nearly as much as it did a few minutes ago.

"Better?" the boy asked.

I lifted my head slowly, quickly wiping away tears, and nodded. "Yes…how did you learn to do that?"

He shrugged, "I watch people a lot."

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but then I heard a carriage roll up to the front of the house. I didn't know if it was my mother or father – by the time, it could have been either.

"Oh gods!" I gasped. "You have to go! I'm going to be in enough trouble just for being out of bed!"

"No you won't," the boy turned around so that he was kneeling in front of me with his back to me. "Come on, I'll take you to your room before your mum even knows you've gone."

I trusted this boy even before I knew why, even before I knew who he was, what he was. I dropped my uninjured leg, leaned forward, and wrapped my arms around his neck. "It's up the stairs, on the right. Hurry!" I whispered quickly, my heart swelling with the excitement of this.

He hurried into the house and up to my room, barely rounding the corner at the top of the stairs before the front door opened and my father called that he was home. Once the boy got to my room, he set me down on my bed before rushing back to the door, closing it quickly but silently, as I pulled the blankets back over me. I looked up to see him rushing towards the open window.

"Wait!" I said quickly. He stopped, halfway out the window already, and looked over his shoulder at me. "What's your name?" I asked.

He smiled, "I'm James."

"I'm Maylea," I couldn't help but smile back.

Without another word, he dropped out of sight, and I laid back down.


	4. June 1707

**1707, June**

 _ **London, England**_

My ankle had barely healed – after only a little while of running, it was sore and aching. But still, here I was, right back in the same exact situation that had broken my ankle to begin with. British soldiers right behind me as I ran across rooftops. My brown hair, flowers on their stems mixed within it, flowing behind me. Vine-green eyes shining with excitement. Tanned skin glistening with sweat from running. Three roof tops away from the church's roof.

I looked ahead of me and saw a body laying on the church's rooftop. He laid on his back, one leg straight out and one bent at the knee, his hands up behind his head. He was the very picture of relaxation.

I launched myself off the rooftop with everything I had. I landed clumsily, twisting my ankle and making it hurt. But I bit back a cry of pain, using my momentum to keep going forward without losing speed. This time, somehow, I was pulling ahead of the soldiers. I grinned, targeting in on the boy laying obliviously on the roof of the church. This time, I wouldn't mess up the jump.

Another jump, and just one rooftop stood between me and the church, me and James. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw the soldiers still on the last rooftop. I turned forward again and drove myself forward, just forward. My ankle was hurting and I was running out of energy, but I forced myself to keep moving, forward, just forward.

I launched myself off the rooftop, onto the next. My landing was in no way graceful. I rolled, biting back a yell of pain and surprise, as my shoulder scraped the ground. I couldn't let the soldiers catch me though. Mother would probably skin me alive if she found out I was climbing and running only _just_ after my ankle healed.

I scrambled up, shoving myself forward, forward. I just had to keep going _forward_. I launched myself off the last roof with a yell. James sat up instantly. He looked at me, then past me and at the soldiers chasing me. I wasn't sure how far behind me they were at that point. I wasn't even sure if I was going to make this jump.

I did, but barely. I landed half on the roof, and had to scramble to keep from falling.

"I have the strangest sense we've been through this before," James said as he grabbed me and helped to pull me up and onto the roof, then to my feet, and started pushing me towards the bell tower.

"Strange, so do I," I agree, letting him push me. I didn't start climbing right away this time, though. I turned to face him. "But this time, you come with me."

"Then who would lead the soldiers away?" he smirked. The soldiers were just on the next roof over by that point, but we barely paid them any mind.

"You could, I suppose," I shrug. "But if you don't come with me, I might break my ankle again.

"I can tell already you're going to be a pain in my neck," he gave me a light shove in the shoulder, but started climbing. I smiled, turning around so that I could start climbing just behind him.

James was a much better climber than I was. He moved quickly and fluidly, moving up the tower like water moves down a rock bed. By comparison, I felt clumsy and slow. I made it to the top of the bell tower long after James, but I made it safely all the same, collapsing to the stone floor once I got there and panting like a dog. James stood, peering carefully down to see where the soldiers were.

"I didn't expect to see you climbing so soon," James said as he came over, kneeling down beside me. "Your ankle's healed."

"Well," I say in between breaths, "it _was_." After all that though, I wouldn't be surprised if it's swollen again, at least.

James laughed, sitting down next to me. "You probably lost muscle, you should take it slow." I scoffed. What a ridiculous idea.

"Why do you smell like horse shite?" James asks after a minute.

"I don't smell _that_ bad…" I protested weakly, sitting up. I pulled the collar of my shirt up to sniff at it. It smelled like barn, sure, but not like horse poop. More like just dirt and hay.

"You smell worse than bad," James said.

"Well it's not my fault," I shrugged. "I have to keep my boy clothes in the barn."

"Do they come from a stable boy too?" he asked. He was holding up the collar of _his_ shirt up to cover his mouth and nose.

"They were my brother's," I informed him crossly. "He died two years ago, when he was ten."

James just stared at me, dropping his hand and the collar of his shirt. I could tell he was about to say something, so I speak up again quickly, before he can.

"You know, if you're going to insult me all the time, I won't bother trying to find you again," I stand up, brushing myself off.

"That's what you were doing?" he smirked, looking up at me. "You were running across those roof tops with a barely healed ankle because you were looking for me?"

"No!" I said quickly. "I was just…I _always_ climb and run along rooftops!"

"With soldiers chasing you?" he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yes, actually," I pursed my lips. It was true, at least. "Soldiers hate me, they always find out when I'm climbing even when I'm trying to be sneaky."

James shook his head, laughing quietly.

"Why are you laughing at me?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips. I wasn't used to people laughing at me for any reason other than the marks on my face. But James clearly wasn't laughing because of the marks on my face, the green vined that knotted and twisted around themselves on my left cheek and above my left eyebrow, even on the left corner of my mouth.

"You must be horrible at sneaking then," James said, looking up at me again.

"I'm not!" I protest.

"If you can't even get past the guards, you're horrible. They're easy."

"They are not!"

"Alright then," James stands up. "Let's have a competition."

"A competition?" I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"What's the matter? Scared to lose, are you?" he asked mockingly. I just glared at him, not saying anything, as he just grinned back at me.

Finally, I asked, "What do you have in mind?" I swear, his grin widened.

He turned around, walking over to the edge of the bell tower. I followed him. "You see those two guards over there?" he asked after a second, pointing. I just looked at him, wondering if he was serious. There were soldiers all over the place. He was really expecting to be able to point and I would know immediately which two out of the hundreds that he was looking at?

He glanced at me after a minute. "Would you just look?" he persisted. Sighing, I turned and looked towards where he was pointing. "There, by gates in that wall. See the guards just standing on either side of it?"

I nodded, seeing them.

James continued, "They're guarding the armory. They don't have keys, but the guards on the other side of the wall do. The first one to get a key and get into the armory wins."

"Wins what?" I wondered, joking.

But James looked at me, pleased but serious. "The first one who gets into the armory gets to take something from it. Anything."

I couldn't help but smile, for reasons even I couldn't really understand yet. But then I realized something. "Wait, in broad daylight? We'll surely get caught," I look up at him.

"Of course not in broad daylight. You'd lose in minutes if we did it now," James almost scoffed. I glared at him, but he ignored it this time. "Can you get out late tonight? When it's darkest out?"

"I think so," I nodded. "Mother and Father go to bed pretty early."

James nodded too, "Good. We'll meet here then."

That night, several hours after I heard my parents go to bed, I slid out of my own bed. My bare feet landed silently on the cold floor, and I crept carefully across my room and to my bedroom door. I pressed my ear against the wood, listening. When I didn't hear anything, I pulled open my door a couple inches to look out into the hallway. Down the hall, my parents' bedroom door was open, but dark and silent. Figuring that it was as safe as it was going to get, I carefully closed my door again and crept over to the window.

As I opened the window, I wondered if I was going to see James waiting just outside, under the window, at the base of the wall that he somehow managed to climb to get to my window some nights. When I didn't see him out there, I looked around, trying to figure out how to get down. There wasn't a tree outside my window, or even ivy down the side of my family's mansion. There was absolutely nothing that I could climb. How the bloody hell did James always manage it?

I looked over my shoulder, at my bed. I could just stay here, not risk getting caught, getting in trouble, or getting hurt again. But even though I didn't think James would make fun of me for chickening out, I found myself wanting to prove myself to him, wanting to show him that I'm not just some silly little girl who's too proud to be anything but the best at everything. I wanted to show him that I could be just as good as he is.

So I closed the window again and went back to the door. I cracked it open silently, then slipped through as soon as there was just enough room for me to fit. I closed the door silently behind me, then crept down the hall, and down the stairs, avoiding the two squeaking steps, then slipped out the kitchen door and into the back gardens, where there was a path that led straight to the barn.

In the barn, I quickly pulled breaches over the skirt of my night dress, then pulled a jacket over my shoulders, sticking my arms through the sleeves. After pulling on an old, slightly dirty, hat, I left the barn and snuck my way up to the rooftops, then across them until I reached the church, where I climbed up the bell tower.

James was already there before me, which wasn't that surprising. He was leaning with his shoulder resting against the corner column, his back to me as he looked out over the town. As I got closer, I realized that he was eating an apple and that he was looking at the armory.

"You ready?" he asked, looking at me. I nodded, suddenly feeling so nervous that I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. I was almost sure even James could hear my heart pounding. We could get caught and I would be in so much trouble. But part of me didn't care. Part of me wanted to do this more than I'd ever wanted anything before. So that was the part that I followed along with.

James and I got to the wall fairly easily, coming across soldiers patrolling the streets occasionally, but never being caught by them. Then we got to the wall.

"How do we get in?" I asked James, careful to keep my voice quiet.

"Easy," he answered, just as quietly. "If we climb on top of that house there, we can jump over to the tree and climb across to the other side of the wall. Then we'll split up to get the keys."

He started forward, but I grabbed his arm and stopped him. "But how do we know who has a key and who doesn't?" I asked.

He just smiled at me, a strange sort of smile that made me think he knew something that I didn't. Or maybe that he knew something that I didn't know he knew. I didn't know, but I knew that the smile was mysterious, filled with secrets and hidden knowledge.

James didn't actually answer my question. He just gave me that strange smile, then started forward towards the house we were meant to climb up on. After watching him for a minute, puzzled, I hurried after him.

I climbed up onto the roof, behind him, and then followed him as he jumped from the roof to a branch of a tree. We ran across the branch and to another one on the other side of the tree, which took us right over the wall.

"Ready?" James asked after we'd dropped from the branch and were hiding in the shrubs beside the wall. I nodded. "Go!" James and I bolted away from each other, both taking advantage of the passing guards' backs being turned. I didn't know where James went, but I dove into another bunch of shrubbery that covered me well.

When I glanced around and saw that James hadn't followed me, I blinked my eyes and activated my second sight. The world turned blue and the guards turned red. I scanned where I could see, looking for the one that had the key. I saw James's silver, just turning the corner of the building, probably going around it to look for more guards, since it doesn't seem like anyone within sight from here has a key – although how James could know, I couldn't guess.

I went back towards the building that was supposed to be the armory, scurrying up the side of it while nobody was looking. Once I reached the roof, I kept slow, moving around at a crouch along the roof. Once I was around the center of it, I activated my second sight again and looked around.

This time, I could see further and more people. I saw James, crouched down in more brush under a tree. I saw my target, glowing yellow, pass right by James. I watched James stand up and walk silently right behind the guard. James pickpocketed the key right off the guard, ducking back down in the bushes before the guard even noticed him. I sighed, realizing that I've already lost.

I didn't realize I'd made my way to the edge of the roof to watch James until my hands slipped and I pitched forward, off the roof. I landed right on top of James, both of us yelping in surprise. Despite being the one landed on, James recovered first, almost instantly. He sprung up, shoving me up with him, and shoved us both into a storage cupboard filled with rakes, just as guards came around the corner of the building to investigate the noise.

There wasn't much room in the storage cupboard, but we took up even less as James held me against him, my back against his chest, and had a hand clamped over my mouth. I almost protested, pulling away slightly or at least pulling his hand off my mouth – I knew better than to talk while I'm hiding from guards. But before I could, I realized something. James had the key. And he was focused on listening to the guards outside.

Carefully, doing my very best not to move his jacket or do anything else that would make him notice what I'm doing, I reach back and slip my hand into his pocket. My fingers brush metal, and I wrap my fingers around the key, pulling it out just as carefully.

It took another minute for James to relax and pull his hand away from my mouth, "I think it's safe to go back out now."

"James," I whispered, trying to keep from giggling. Carefully, making sure I don't knock anything down and make a bunch of noise, I turned around so that I was facing James. There was no real light in this storage cupboard, but there was just enough illumination from the full moon outside to be able to see fairly well. So I held up the key I stole right from him.

James opened his mouth to say something, oblivious at first. But then he stopped, checking his pockets, looking for his key, and I couldn't help but grin. I had to clamp my own hand over my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

"So," I whispered once I'd gotten control of myself. "Does this mean I win?"

James let out a breath, "You're already a pain in my neck." I grinned, taking that as a yes.

Once we had the key, it was actually really easy to get into the armory. There were no windows or anything that we could have climbed through, just the one door that was guarded by two soldiers, one on either side, as well as all the soldiers patrolling the space on this side of the wall. James shot the two guards right by the doors with sleeping darts, knocking them out cold. They slumped to the ground with quiet thunks while all other guards' backs were turned. With the way clear for the moment, James and I quickly slipped inside.

"Wow," I whispered once we were inside, looking around. There were more swords and muskets than I could count.

"Wait till you see upstairs," James smirked over his shoulder at me as he walked away, towards the stairs in the back corner of the room.

"Upstairs?" I followed him. "Have you been here before?"

"Once or twice," he said vaguely as we climbed up the steps.

There weren't as many weapons on the second floor of the armory, but there still must have been over a hundred, at least, hanging on the walls, taking up almost every inch of wood paneling.

"Maylea," James drew my attention again. I turned back around to face him, as he walked over to me, looking down at a sheathed dagger in his hands. "Your prize," he said, holding it out to me.


	5. Christmas 1707

**1707 Christmas Day**

For months, James and I ran around Kingston causing trouble together, thieving as often as we could but mostly just having races and competitions against each other. Races through the streets, along the beaches, up and across the rooftops of buildings, or competitions to see who could steal the most apples before they were caught or take the most jewels from ladies or could get the closest the mayor when he was out and about without being seen, a new competition every day. But James almost always won all of them. I was a beginner, and he was a pro. According to him, he'd been doing these types of things ever since he could walk. I think I believed him, just because he was so skilled at it all.

But he taught me a little bit. Sometimes. But mostly he just made me learn on my own, from watching him. I don't think it was the fastest way to learn how to do all the things that he could do, but it was effective enough that I slowly started to get better at it.

In September, though, he disappeared. Stopped meeting me at any of our usual spots. I kept going back and waiting for him. But by October, I figured out that he probably wasn't coming back. And for a while, he didn't.

It wasn't until Christmas day, when I was alone in my room, ready and waiting to go to the mayor's Christmas ball, that I saw him again.

There was a knock on my window. The familiar rhythm of taps that I recognized as James' knock. I rushed to the window, throwing it open so that he could climb through.

"You didn't get all dressed up on my account, did you?" he joked, as if he _hadn't_ disappeared for months without a word.

"Don't joke with me, James…" I paused, realizing I didn't know his last name. Instead, I just settled with, "Don't joke with me, James! Where've you been? You had me worried!" I demanded.

"Worried?" he seemed amused, at least. "Well, as you can see, I'm back and in one piece."

And he was. In one piece, that is. He looked exactly as he had before he left. His bandana covering his forehead, his clothes as dirty and rumbled as they always were – they somehow never seemed to get any cleaner or dirtier. I suspected that took both a lot of washing and a lot of rolling around in dirt. I wasn't sure about the washing part, but I did know that he did a lot of rolling around in dirt.

"Why are you so dressed up anyway? You almost look like a real lady," he grinned.

"That's not funny," I scowled. "I _am_ supposed to look like a real lady. Tonight anyway."

"Why?" he asked, almost laughing.

"We're going to the ball at the Mayor's house. My family goes every year. And my friend Anne is in town for it. She's Irish."

"Is her accent as funny as mine?" James grinned.

"Funnier," I couldn't help but grin right back. I didn't want to tell him, but I was grateful that he was back. From the very first moment when he pulled me onto the church's rooftop, James became just about everything that I wanted to be. He was clever and brave and fearless.

"I've never heard an Irish accent," James said.

"You should meet Anne then," I suggested. "You should come to the party."

"No way," he shook his head. "I've seen enough of the Mayor's house, sneaking in. Just walking in would be boring."

I rolled my eyes, "Fine then, have it your way." Just then, my father called up, telling me it was time to go. I glanced at the door, scowling as I looked back at James. "I've got to go."

"Then so do I," he nodded, already making his way to the window.

"Wait," I took a quick step towards him, barely aware I was doing it. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"If you want to," he smiles. "I'll be around." He climbed out my window, disappearing into the night. I rushed to the window to look out for him, but he seemed to just disappear into the shadows. I couldn't see him anymore. But still I smiled, because I knew that when morning came the next day, and I'd finished with my chores, and my mother went into her sewing room and my father went to work, I would say I was going for a walk, but I would climb to the bell tower of the church and I would meet up with James and we would go back to our adventurous games. And hopefully he wouldn't disappear again.


End file.
